Antipasto of cauliflower, leeks, beets, and fennel with salsa rustica: food for wonder, in response to Sarah & Noga's solicitousness about the weekend past, over the fact that ambient historical overload has led to a predilection for defensive simplification of late: head drunken merely in patterns of light and the natural cycles expunged from my, our, standard dailiness, primordial even, from the studio garden, reinforced last week by tales of its waxing or waning pomegranates, persimmons, olives, and figs with lovely Davia of Hidden Kitchens. Noga: But do you believe in an unmediated relationship to nature?

(After a decade of thinking on the question via Venice:)  No.

Search for abbreviation: Punctuation: Carved labors of the months on the lower basin of Perugia's Fontana Maggiore: reminders in the heart of the commune of natural and civic order.

Clarity of the moon, sun or muss of illumination overladen with work, sentiment, junk emanating from every orientation: not to expunge such entropy or construction but to see it all in rupturous dawn or dusk and by seeing (or saying) (says Nathanaël) witness a space being opened up for the present itself.